


Pray it is Your Last

by orphan_account



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dom/sub, F/M, M/M, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:22:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond punishes Tiago because M cannot fix him by herself anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pray it is Your Last

Hurt, hurting, hurts. Agonizing, sharp pants pry their way through his clenched teeth. Each minute that Tiago is held down, he becomes more frustrated ... but that is the point. This is his punishment that she has so coldly crafted to reign in his growing instability, before he goes too far, before he loses himself. Bond hisses a curse against the sweaty flesh of the back of his neck as he pushes into Tiago with another hard thrust forward. In, in, burning, hurting. It is everything that he needs and hates all at once.

She watches him burn beneath the other man, watches as he breaks apart and comes back together over and over again. Her hand gently traces his face; the touch is an unexpected cool balm against the scorching heat inside him. Such softness is unlike her, but maybe that is why she called Bond in to be his tormentor tonight. Usually she cannot afford gentleness with him. But no matter how close he skitters to the edge, she always takes care to find a new ways to pull him back, even if it means tearing him apart and putting him back together bit by tiny bit.

Mouth open wide, he gasps a harsh breath, his eyes clenched shut as Bond’s fingers dig painfully into his scalp. He pulls Tiago into a complementary arc, their bodies molding perfectly, like they were meant for each other.

“Focus,” Bond commands, and it is all he can do not to snarl in response. She can see it on Tiago's face: the need to fight and how her look of disappointment rips its way straight into his vital organs. His head would bow in shame, but Bond’s grip in his hair keeps him firmly planted, staring into her disapproving gaze.

He remains shamefully subdued until Bond finishes inside him. It is hard not to join him—not to succumb to baser instincts and just let go—but the reward for obedience is so much greater than just simple release, and so he endures.

When Bond releases him from his restraints, he falls on M in a haze of desperation, hips jerking to graze against the fabric of her smart business suit. For a second he fears rejection as Bond’s arms wrap around his middle to pull him back from his senseless rutting. Then she undresses and it is all he can do not to tear free from the other man’s grip, but he has come this far. He will not let himself fail and be sent away for misbehaving.

“Calmly, mate,” Bond attempts to pacify the impatience growing inside him. Tiago cannot help but think he does not understand, does not know what it is like having the thing that holds you together be so close, but not be able to touch. Bond is damaged, certainly, but he has not quite yet reached the heights Tiago has, not been blunted down to the quick. Tiago can see it growing though, in the way Bond takes risks, the way he drinks, the way he comes home with a different woman every night. The cracks are there, and he wonders who will save Bond, because M is his.

His head is still hazy as he crawls on top of her, but each touch he lays upon her skin is nothing short of reverent. His feelings are never spoken, but through pure physicality he leaves them to be translated by raw nerves touching warm flesh—the only way he can express himself now, the only way she will accept them. He feels like a live current courses through his body when he finally pushes into her. 

Over the years she has aged, but gracefully so, and he feels her softness beneath him like a warning sign for tenderness. It does not matter; the steel will beneath the transiency of her flesh is what matters most to him. It is what keeps his eyes on hers as he drags each sigh and moan from her as he fucks her into the couch. He whispers ‘thank you’ over and over into the skin of her neck, because she still saves him, has not abandoned him. Yet. He knows he is a liability, and he wonders of the day her fondness for him will no longer convince her that he is worth keeping.


End file.
